Shadows of the Past
by Magdalene Thorne
Summary: All Harry can do is countdown the days until he can return to his beloved Hogwarts and friends. As he daydreams away, practicing his magic in secret, Harry is unaware of the new danger awaiting him at the magical school. The arrival of a new face catches his attention, and makes the teenage boy ask questions about himself, his family, and how it is all connected to the night.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with the franchise. This fan fiction is merely for entertainment purposes and not my own profit.**

**Author's Note: Well hello my pretties! Soooo…many of you who have read my other work are probably, thinking, "Mag-san, why you are doing yet another story when you have four out already, three of which are still ongoing?" Well, I just can't help myself. I have no better answer. So, this fic will pick up at the time of third book, The Prisoner of Azkaban. It pretty much is a retelling, though it will focus more so on my OC, Millia. She is a way to see more a muggle perspective on the magical world, sort of. You'll learn more about it as the story progresses as well as give more insight from other characters, not just Harry. Enjoy!**

Prologue: Prison Break

It was a dusty summer morning as the guard set about his regular routine. He ignored the constant buzz of his alarm, slamming his fist onto it to shut it off. He had a long day ahead of him, as one of the few wizards in charge of security at Azkaban, his duties never ceased. It was somewhat convenient to have the dementors as more so "guard dogs" to keep things as stable as possible. Getting up, he scratched his back, the bowl in front of the mirror filling itself with clean water. Though his accommodations were not the best, he did try to make it homey. A few things from home to liven up the place helped. Washing his face, he took a good look at himself in the mirror. He was in his 30's, tall and well-toned, chocolate-brown eyes staring back with chiseled features covered with a five o'clock shadow. Being muggle-born, he could never quite let go of certain ways he had been raised. Though he had his magic, as a guard at one of the most secure prisons in the world, he had to be on his toes.

He trained his body as much as he did his mind. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself. It was a big day and he had to be on his best game. Pulling on his uniform, he stepped out from the comfort of his room to the hall, heading to the main containment building. He kept his head bowed as he walked by those floating creatures, nothing but black cloak and death. He was used to them, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Having spent so much time around the dementors, he had developed a sort of "immunity" to them. They somehow sensed this and left him to his devices. As long as he was in line, they wouldn't bother him. And that was exactly what he wanted.

He greeted his colleagues as he passed them, all wearing the same dreary, tired expression. They didn't pay any attention to him as he headed to the most dreadful part of the prison, where the very worst of the worst were held. He was one of the head guards, so it made sense he would patrol that area though not assigned to it. As he walked down the cold stone corridor, he could hear the wild waves crashing against the rocks, the wind whistling a sad tune. Looking out one of the small, barred windows, the guard could see the sun trying to light the small island below through the heavy grey clouds. Was it just natural the place was so depressing, or was it an enchantment placed on the land to add to the punishment of the prisoners? Either way, he just shrugged it off as he spotted the small figure climbing up the cliff side.

"Is she trying to get caught?" he muttered, quickly walking to the nearest wall, making sure no one, or anything, see him.

The dementors were too busy with the arrival of visitors to care about one lone soul crawling up ever so carefully from the ocean. The guard pulled out his wand, its look that of an old branch carved smooth and grey in color. With a muttered spell, a door materialized on the wall. He swung it open, not so much as a squeak from it, as if anyone could hear it anyway over the roaring waves. The figure reached him in no time, dressed in a dark wetsuit with a utility belt around her waist, carrying small air tanks on her back, her flippers in hand. She had a gun strapped on her side as well.

"You always this 'inconspicuous'?" he asked as she walked past him into the corridor. "Why didn't you leave all of that down there?"

"And have it washed away? I don't think so," her soft voice scoffed, revealing a noticeable elegant American accent. "I'm sorry, David, but unlike you, I don't have the benefit of magic and all of this is very expensive to replace. Besides, the lack of magic makes it easier to sneak behind your 'buddies'."

"Honestly, lass, you take too many risks," David sighed as she removed her goggles from her grey-eyes and pulled back the cap of her suit, revealing pastel-pink hair pulled into a tight bun. "If I spotted you, they could too."

"That is where you're wrong," she corrected him. "I let you see me since I already spotted you walking this way."

"You know, dear, you are something else," he scratched the back of head, wondering if this was a good idea after all.

But then again, this was about finally proving a man's innocence, and he would be damned if he let him rot in that cell one more day.

"Now then, everything set?" she asked as she scanned around her for any movement.

"Yes, I've already moved the dementors to the visitors' area. Not that I like it, but those bastards love to feed on new meat and they tire of the same meal day in and day out," David explained, conjuring a blanket to camouflage her things. "All you have to deal with are the remaining guards, but they shouldn't be too much trouble for you."

"Oh, trust me," she turned with a mischievous smile, grey eyes glittering. "They won't know what hit them."

She had smooth features with fair skin, giving her an aura of frailty, but she liked using that to her advantage over unsuspecting enemies. She was thin but was already developing curves as her 17-year-old self matured each day. She reached to a bit below David's shoulders, but she didn't mind her size either. That's what heels were for.

Taking a moment to see the coast was clear, she turned away from him, her eyes staring dead ahead, "Right. You should go then."

David didn't say anything. He had done his part, the rest was up to her. Though she may not have been born with the gift of magic, that girl was far more dangerous for it. Truly a child of both worlds, Magic and Muggle, she was skilled in ways no one in the magical community could dream of. She had adapted, flourished, despite how others had thought her life would have turned out. But she was a fighter, and David was more than happy he was her ally than her enemy.

"Millia, do me one favor," he said before leaving. "Try not to bloody up the floors too much. It's always such a pain having to clean that."

"I'll do my best," she smirked, adjusting her gloves onto her hands.

With a nod for luck, David slipped away, leaving no trace. There were only four guards stationed in the high security section of the prison. This was where Voldemort's most loyal and deadliest followers were placed, the ones whose names were marred in infamy by their horrible acts upon their own kind and others. The guards were towering, brutes in force, clothed in layers of brown leather with the emblem of the Ministry of Magic etched onto the right side of the chest. They were trained to handle any situation should there ever be a breakout. However, they were not prepared for someone like Millia. As they strode past each cell, an overwhelming sense of despair looming in the air, they failed to notice as Millia skipped down the corridor, as though made of nothing. She was so fast and agile, they wouldn't see her until it was too late.

She was like a shadow, behind the first guard before he could feel her presence. With a chop to the head, he was out cold. As he fell, she slipped to the next guard, who turned around to see what was wrong, only to receive a fist to the side of the head. Down he went. The other guards were around the corner, unable to hear Millia's quick work. The third was rounding into the hall when he halted in his tracks at the sight of his colleagues unconscious. He was about to shout for help when Millia popped out of nowhere, striking his throat before he could see her and pulling him into a chokehold. He drooped onto the floor as everything went dark. Millia slunk to wall, looking down the hall with a small mirror. The last guard stood vigilant over this particular prisoner. The guard only looked scary, but she knew how to deal with him. Pulling out her gun, she aimed without looking and hit the man square on the jugular. He barely knew what was going on as the sleep serum instantly took effect. He slummed to the floor with a hard thud.

Millia smirked at her handiwork as she walked up in a casual stride, "Well, that was easy."

She placed the gun back into the holster, now checking the door. It was magically locked, with only the guards and warden able to open them. Luckily, she came prepared. Pulling out a small, white clay cube from another pocket. She knocked on the door, waiting for a reply. She waited, placing her ear to the wood. She heard the faint breathing from inside. It was coming from the far right corner of the cell, far enough. She stuck the cube to where the lock would be, pulling the guard back with her to the corner. Pulling her gun out again, she loaded a different dart into the chamber. She aimed for the cube, pulling the trigger. It exploded on contact. The sound went unannounced due the small size of the explosion and the raging tides outside. She strode back, the door now open. She saw her target, a man curled up on the floor, looking up with sunken eyes at her.

"Mr. Black," she smiled, extending her hand. "Time to go."

"You're the 'help' David spoke of?" he said in a weak voice.

"I'm Millia, now are you coming or not? Or would you rather deal with the dementors for another day?"

Sirius was unsure if he could trust this girl. She was so young, yet the atmosphere of the prison didn't seem to affect her as it did everyone else. There was also the fact David was putting his life on the line for helping in his long-awaited escape. He tried to stand, his knees almost giving out from the lack of nutrition. Millia caught him. She pulled a small syringe from a second pocket, injecting the contents into Sirius' neck. He gasped, looking at her angry.

"Don't worry, it's just a bit of adrenaline to get you going," Millia defended. "And some other things too."

She muttered the second part, Sirius not hearing her as he suddenly felt a burst of energy bring him back to life. He wasn't at 100%, but it was miles better than he had been feeling before.

"Come on," Millia said, leading him out of the cell.

She was already at the door David had made. Sirius stood with his jaw left hanging as he saw the guards laying on the floor.

"They're still alive," she said without looking away from the door, opening it ajar to check to coast. "I'm not allowed to kill them. If I was, we'd be long gone by now. But someone was adamant about, 'No killing'."

"You have no qualms about taking a life?" Sirius asked stone-faced.

"No," Millia revealed unashamed, opening the door wide open.

The scent of the sea blew in, Millia pulling her gear back on.

"Mr. Black, what I do is not for the weak of heart. I do good things, I do bad things. Simple as that."

He said nothing as he followed her down the ridge, the door disappearing once closed. As he wondered how they were going to leave, he saw her jump and land on thin air. She offered her hand. Sirius was curious at what magic this was. When he stood, he felt solid ground underneath him. They walked further into the air until he was suddenly on a boat, one he knew muggles called a yacht. But it was different than its luxurious counterparts. It seemed to be made more for combat than leisure. There were crewmembers walking about, one taking Millia's equipment. Another gave Sirius a blanket, which he thanked the man for.

"The boat is concealed with cloaking technology," Millia explained as she led him below deck. "No magic involved. Otherwise, the dementors would be able to sense our presence."

"No magic?" Sirius couldn't believe muggles made such advancements.

"While the wizarding world has magic, muggles have science," she went on, the boat now moving away from Azkaban at a moderate speed. "They have made great strides in many fields. Muggles have had to adapt without magic. As a result, they have become quite the resilient race."

"And you are not a muggle? You didn't use magic at the prison either. Yet you have knowledge of the magical community," Sirius was drawing to one conclusion. "You're a Squib."

"I've never liked that term," Millia shook her head. "It makes it seem like one is but dirt if they don't have magic. Not my fault I was born without magic into a family of wizards."

"My apologies," Sirius offered. "I didn't intend to insult you."

"It's fine," she smiled, knowing he was honestly sorry. "Not your fault that someone couldn't come up with a better term than 'Squib'. Here we go."

She opened the cabin door for him. Inside, Sirius felt his heart jump at how comfortable and clean the room was. The bed especially looked quite inviting.

"Through that door is a bathroom," she pointed to a side door. "And in the closet are some clothes that should fit you. You're welcome to explore around. The kitchen is down this hall to the left. I've got to go check in, but I'll see you later. There are things you need to be informed of."

Millia walked a few paces before Sirius called out to her, "Wait! Ms. Millia…I wanted to thank you. You helped me escape and have now given me a warm bed and shower. I am indebted to you."

"No need," she waved graciously. "Now get some rest. It's a long trip. Also, you can drop the formalities."

"Very well," he nodded.

Millia smiled as she walked down the corridor to a separate set of steps leading up to the control deck. The crew acknowledged her as she entered.

"Captain," she said as she approached the man at the helm. "How are we looking?"

"It's gonna be rough waters for a good stretch, but we will arrive at port as expected," he answered her while pulling up a holographic map for her to view.

"Good," Millia said before turning her attention to a different station nearby.

A few clicks on the keyboard and an older male voice spoke up, "Millia."

"John, I'm reporting in," she began. "Extraction of target successful, no incidents to report. Heading to rendezvous port. Estimated arrival time, five hours."

"Extraction confirmed. Arrival time confirmed. Once you reach port, you are to take the target to the safe house for debriefing on the course of action. Debrief what information is available in the meantime to target. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Millia replied.

"Alright, well, now that the formal report is done, how'd it go?" John asked in a more casual tone.

"It was pretty easy," Millia yawned, stretching in her seat. "It was more challenging getting to Azkaban than the actual mission itself. The advantages of having no magic."

"Hey, those dementors are no joke. I've dealt with them before and it was pretty harrowing to say the least."

"Harrowing, you say? Such a big word there!" Millia teased.

"Oh, I'm not allowed to expand my vocabulary, am I?" John laughed back. "Anyway, you might want to call your dad after this. He called me wondering if you were back or not. Sounded pretty worried too. You didn't tell him the full details of this mission?"

Millia sighed a bit of guilt, "I…didn't want him to worry too much. I only told him it was going to be a prison break. Not where though. However, I think he knew where I was going."

"Clearly," John chuckled knowingly. "Just call him to put him at ease. I know he's not the touchy-feely type, but he does love you very much."

"I will," she assured him. "Anything else before I go?"

"Nope, just be safe in getting home."

"You got it! Signing off!"

"Bye!"

"Well, captain, if anything 'surprises' arise, let me know," Millia yawned, heading out of deck. "I'm going to take a little cat nap."

"Yes ma'am," the captain saluted.

The screen where she had been seating was finished logging out. On the screen read her full name before disappearing: _Millia Arienne Snape Dumbledore._

**So, I've been wanting to release this fic for quite some time. Let me know how you guys like it and if I should keep going. Feedback is always appreciated.**

**Preview: News of Sirius Black's escape rocks the magical world. Just who is this Millia? And can Sirius truly trust her?**


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